Akudemy Jukebox
by Ms. Selly
Summary: A series of ficlets from fluffy to angsty inspired by various songs. Sortof an experiment, suggestions welcome. Rated for future language and themes. AxelDemyx
1. Track One: Secret

**Track One:**

"**Secret"**

_I know I don't know you _

_But I want you so bad._

_Everyone has a secret_

_Oh can they keep it?_

_Oh no they can't._

_--Maroon 5_

"I wanted you the second I saw you." A dark purr, heated with promise.

"What?" Demyx follows his first instinct and moves backward—smacking against the speaker. He stumbles forward, tripping over the thick folds of his cloak. They told him he'd get used to it, but damned if he didn't nearly fall over at least once an hour. Maybe the Organization had just never had a Nobody as clumsy as he was. Turning around, he views his visitor.

It's the redhead. The _really_ redhead—when Demyx first saw him, he thought for a panicked second that his head was on fire. Cat's eyes accentuated by tattoos. He's tall—Demyx has never considered himself short, but he has to tilt his head to study the other man's face—and he must be a stick. The way the cloak hangs, it looks almost like there's nothing inside. Which is ridiculous. He never thought the term "Nobody" was literal, or he wouldn't have joined. He smiles a little bit at his joke, before remembering that the redhead is still watching him. He's smiling too—not in a way that makes Demyx feel happy. Or safe. Or anything besides a nice piece of meat.

"What?" He says it again, louder.

"You heard me." The smile only gets worse.

"Well, yeah, but…what did you mean?"

"What I said."

"In what way, exactly?"

"God, you're dense." He stretches, clasping his hands over his head, arms fully extended. It's a pretty full extension, like his arms go up forever. Demyx still feels awkward, and strange, and terribly like the new guy (which he is). He was introduced to all the other Nobodies when he first came, and he can't even remember this one's name. He looks like the kind of guy Demyx would do well to remember.

Bringing his arms down, but the motion doesn't stop. He moves fluidly until his hands are clasped at their lowest point, then he slides his hands up his thighs until they rest on his hips. The robe is held tighter against him now, and Demyx can see that there is a body there. Definitely. "Are you really that dense, or am I just so hot you can't form words?"

Demyx starts, and is immediately ashamed to have been watching. "I just, erm, I only…I'm new."

"I know." Though it's an innocent phrase, the way the redhead looks when he says it is anything but. He licks his lower lip slowly and winks. "I like that in a man."

Demyx has nothing to say to that, so he says "erm" again. This seems entirely too strange to really be happening, especially to him. Maybe it was some kind of trick? A rite of passage for the newbie? He'd like to believe that, but the look in the redhead's eyes is deadly serious. And that is not an overstatement—Demyx firmly believes that a romance with this man could kill him.

"You're stupid. That's cute, but also annoying." He raises his hand to summon a portal to leave.

"What was your name?" Demyx calls, wanting to at least know that much. The man smiles—not like a cat watching a mouse, but like a cat who already has the mouse trapped. The little rodent just doesn't know it yet.

"Axel." And he's gone.

"Axel," Demyx repeats to himself. He'll have to watch out for this Axel character. He could be trouble. Major trouble.

**Author's Note:** Experimenting with a new, more impressionistic style of writing in this one…my next one will probably be back to a more usual form for me. Have a song request? Share it!


	2. Track Two: Pardon Me

**Track Two:**

"**Pardon Me"**

_So I apologize to you_

_And to anyone else that I hurt too_

_I may not be a perfect soul_

_But I can learn self control_

_--Weezer_

"Sorry."

Demyx looked like he had decided that his jaw would do better attached to the floor than the rest of his face. Axel folded his arms and hunched his shoulders, trying to draw himself in, fade away. _I can't believe I'm doing this…_ He leaned against the doorframe, trying to be nonchalant, and looked away. Demyx blinked. And again.

"Did you just apologize? To me?"

"I'm not saying it again."

"You did, really?"

"It's not that unbelievable." Axel pulled his arms in, hugging himself tighter. He knew this was a bad idea, he knew from the start, but he had done it anyway.

"Axel, the Flurry of the Dancing Flames, egomaniac, slutty redhead, and all around unfeeling ass, just apolo—"

"For fuck's sake, Demyx, shut up. I'm sorry, okay?" He looked down quickly, and when Demyx didn't speak again, he tilted his head carefully so he could see Demyx without actually looking at him. Demyx was smiling.

"I forgive you." Axel had to blink a few times himself to make sure he had heard correctly. He brought his head back up and cleared his throat, tried to smile.

"Well…good." His voice was rougher than he wanted it to be, and he winced. He sounded all _emotional_. If there was one thing he wasn't—but obviously, that wasn't true, because he was. Demyx leaned in and kissed him, softly, drew back still smiling.

"That was nice. You should apologize more often." Axel rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. I'll get right on that." But even sarcasm didn't change the almost blissful expression on Demyx's face, and it was kind of creeping Axel out. It was even creepier when Demyx wrapped his arms around Axel's neck, and just snuggled in against his chest—warm and safe. _Safe?_ "Don't get used to it, drip, this was a one time thing."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Don't 'mmm-hmm' me. It's not happening again."

"Whatever you say, Axel. Whatever you say."


	3. Track Three: Think Again

**Track Three:**

"**Think Again"**

_Boy, I want to thank you in my own special way_

_For the hard times, heartaches, and the games that you play_

_It's your time to pay_

_Karma's like a boomerang, it all comes back again_

_And you're gonna see_

_That I could take the high road but I stay low_

'_Cause that's what you did to me_

_--Blonde Mafia_

A week.

He'd been on a mission one single week. And what did he come back to?

It was like he wasn't even there. Like he hadn't ever been there.

Demyx was not, despite what _some_ people might say, high maintenance. He didn't expect a lot (which was good because, more often than not, he didn't get a lot), and he considered himself willing to "go with the flow." In fact, his control of water probably made him more flow-ready than most. So when he finally got back from a mission—which had been tedious, dull, and more than little pointless, if anyone cared to know—he didn't expect much from Axel. He didn't expect hugs, or gentle kisses, or anything even resembling emotion—so what if they didn't _really_ feel? Demyx thought it was worth the effort to pretend. Axel's refusal to was either a statement on his stalwart loyalty to reality or on how little effort he thought Demyx was worth (probably the latter, because Demyx couldn't really justify using "Axel" and "loyalty" in the same sentence). He didn't expect a lot. He really didn't.

One thing he _did_ expect was that Axel would not be busy fucking some anonymous little blonde through the mattress when he got back.

So, of course, that's exactly what he found.

And still, Demyx didn't expect much. So Axel couldn't help but take the new guy for a "trial run" as he so artlessly described it. So Axel couldn't go one week without sex. Demyx could understand that. Axel was…demanding. Insatiable. Quite possibly a nymphomaniac, or at least, Demyx always thought so. And he was on the receiving end, so he should know. But back to the point, Demyx could forgive Axel his little transgression. Hell, Demyx was even willing to let Blondie join them (he seemed pretty enthusiastic, from what Demyx had seen). He truly expected that little from his relationship.

But from the way Axel was avoiding him, it was clear that even those rock-bottom expectations were not going to be met. Axel and Blondie ate together, Axel and Blondie walked down the halls together (bumping hips oh so casually), Axel and Blondie somehow managed to finagle a mission together ("No can do," Axel had sneered when Demyx had dared to suggest the same thing, before he knew better than to ask Axel for anything), Axel and Blonde spent every single solitary moment together. But Demyx could deal. Demyx was patient, and Demyx was understanding. Let Axel have his little fling. He would come back. Eventually.

And then he saw it. The one thing he could not forgive. The one thing that let him know that what he had here was a war, and he was already three battles behind.

He saw Axel and Blondie walking down the corridor, holding hands. Holding hands. Holding fucking hands. Axel--whose idea of affection was grabbing Demyx's ass and making a lewd comment, making the rest of the Organization members present laugh, and Demyx try to pretend he wasn't a sex object, that even without a heart, he was more than that—was holding hands with that little blonde trollop. It wasn't even a half-hearted hold, as if that would have made a difference. It was a full-out, fingers entwined, skip through the meadows of daisies, hand-holding.

So a war it was. The Axel War. Luckily, though the tart might have the advantage of some kind of dreadful hypnotic power that caused Demyx's jerk of a boyfriend to turn into a mushy goop, Demyx was more familiar with the battleground. He knew every nook, cranny and kink. All the previous battles had been won before he even knew they were happening—not this time. This time, he would pick the place and the time, and he would be more than ready.

The time was the next day. The place was on one of the many stairways that led to nothing in particular. Axel and Blondie were sitting on the rail, chatting quietly, touching each other's hands. What was with the hands? Perhaps some kind of demented fetish side-effect from Blondie's hypnosis. No matter. Soon, it wouldn't matter at all, because Axel's philandering ass would be right back where it belonged. Some wouldn't see why Demyx was fighting so hard to get Axel back. Sure, they had chemistry, and they had hot sex, but it wasn't like (with eleven other Nobodies and infinite other worlds) that could never be found again. Axel was a jerk. An unfeeling, cheating, hopeless, self-centered, sarcastic, plain old mean jerk. But that didn't matter, because he was Demyx's jerk. And he was going to get him back.

Demyx ditched his robe (not sexy), and managed to worm his loose pants down until they were _just_ hanging off his hips. It was lucky that there were no sudden breezes in their world between, because one of those would be all it took to leave him pants-less. And a quick shower of water (yes, Xemnas had given him the talk about "using our powers for frivolous purposes" after the bathtub incident, but this was not frivolous. This was war.) left him covered in thousands of tiny water droplets that he knew Axel liked nothing better than to lick one by one.

He sauntered over—he had been planning for more of a strut, but it was harder to walk with his pants that far down than he had expected. Blondie turned to look at him, while Axel looked the other way.

"Hey," Demyx plastered on his goofiest smile and stuck out his hand. _Hey, aren't I cute? Definitely not after your (my) man, nope, not at all._ "I was out when you showed up, so I figured I should introduce myself. I'm Demyx."

"Roxas." Blondie looked slightly perturbed, but he shook Demyx's hand anyway. Demyx felt a small sting of remorse. After all, it wasn't _really_ the trollop's fault that Axel was a dog. Oh well, all's fair in love and war, and when love _is_ war, all bets are off. Demyx nodded, all smiles, then, casually…

"Hey Axel." Axel turned to glare at him over Roxas' head, and Demyx seized the opportunity to stretch. Slowly and wetly. "Well, I better run, I have _so_ much to do."

"Nice meeting you," Blondie was still thoroughly confused, and Demyx jogged away, feeling exhilarated.

Once safely in the shadow of a doorway, he glanced back. Blondie was chatting amiably again, but Axel was still staring after him, gaze heavy and heated. Demyx smiled.

The high lasted until evening; replaying his moment of victory over and over in his head gave him hours of entertainment. But when he finally crawled into bed, alone, he realized something. He had won a longing gaze from Axel. A gaze. After his game, Axel was still sitting with Blondie. Right at this very moment, Axel was probably looking at Blondie with eyes twice as wanting as the ones he'd shown Demyx earlier.

Team Demyx had a long way to go.

**A/N: **This one took a bit longer, since I needed a while to slide back into a snarkier style. Unrelated news: I completed my 20,000 word screenplay for ScriptFrenzy, and I'm very proud of me! Yay!


	4. Track Four: Disco Inferno

**Track Four:**

"**Disco Inferno"**

_Burn, baby, burn_

_Disco inferno_

_Burn, baby, burn_

_Burn that mother down_

_--The Trammps_

It's clear that Demyx dances like his element, like his dancers: he moves with fluid, boneless grace, sliding and gliding and writhing like nothing but water filled his skin. Even the way he walks down the halls contains a tiny bounce, a little swivel that makes people think of him as happy-go-lucky.

But no one knows if Axel dances like his element, because no one ever sees Axel dance. He does. Arms moving with jerks and starts, near-flailing that could be called ungainly, except that it's infused with infinite spark and energy. The music doesn't matter—as long as there's a steady beat, Axel will pulse and burn, energy crackling through his shoulders, his elbows, down to his hips and knees. Eyes closed, so he doesn't has to watch himself dance, he lets it flow—but it's a completely different from the way Demyx flows. Axel dances like a forest fire—it's harsh, and painful, but so beautiful, it's hard to tear your eyes away. He moves like destruction, like he's on fire, like he'll set _you_ on fire if you get too close (and if you managed to spot him dancing, he probably would).

He only dances with Demyx because Demyx insists, and he knows that Demyx would never tell. He's embarrassed by his dancing—the only thing he's shy about.

Demyx thinks it's sweet.

**A/N**: Just a quickie…I heard the song, and the image of flames made me think of Axel (surprise!). I love the idea of him dancing.


	5. Track Five: Letting the Cables Sleep

**Track Five:**

"**Letting the Cables Sleep"**

Dedicated to Cloudlessly

_Silence is not the way_

_We need to talk about it_

_If heaven is on the way_

_We'll wrap the world around it_

_If heaven is on the way_

_--Bush_

Sometimes they just sit.

After they fight.

After they talk.

After they love.

Staring at their gloved hands.

Staring at the empty ceiling.

Staring at the blank walls.

Anywhere but at the other's hungry eyes.

They sit.

They stare.

They don't touch.

No, never.

Never touch. Not really. Because what's there to touch?

A shell.

Less than.

Not a man.

Not at all.

They sit.

A minute.

An hour.

An eternity, who can tell?

In an empty world.

With empty walls.

And empty boys.

Except for that moment.

Not even a moment—a fraction.

His lips.

And his lips.

They brush.

_Touch_.

And for that fraction of a moment,

They aren't empty.

**A/N: **Playing with formats a bit, and with more of that impressionistic _angst_. Since I'm not familiar with the song, I just wrote as I listened—more of a mood capture than anything else.


End file.
